Government Guy
“Nault, answer your fucking phone, you son of a bitch. I need intel.”
I strike a match.
“The site went dark, and I have no contact. Haystack was your operation.”
I bring the flame to the end of my joint.
“No amount of ignoring me will change that. I’m not gonna die for this.”
I inhale.
And I delete the message.
Lying on my living room floor, I hold the smoke in my lungs. Then exhale.
Johnson was right about one thing. Haystack was my operation.
But he stole it.
So he can live, or die, with the consequences.
I bring the joint back to my lips.
I need a fucking vacation.
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